


Assume = Ass + U + Me

by peet4paint



Category: Glee
Genre: Bad Sex, F/F, F/M, Humor, M/M, Marriage, Partner Betrayal, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peet4paint/pseuds/peet4paint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never good to assume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assume = Ass + U + Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/8721.html?thread=15080721#t15080721) on the glee-kink-meme.

Puck wakes up to the worst hangover of his life. It tastes like there’s a dead skunk in his mouth. His eyes are sandy. His head in general feels like it’s going to explode. Which only gets worse when Finn starts yelling like a maniac. Puck tries to say, _Dude calm down_ , but all that comes out is, “Nghhh.”

“What the hell,” Finn yells. “What the _hell_! Why do I have a wedding ring on? I got married last night. What is wrong with you? Why did you let me do something this stupid?” Finn gives Puck a half-hearted whack. And that’s all it takes to make Puck’s stomach roil.

He manages not to throw up only because he’s still lying down, but it’s a little touch and go for a few minutes. He covers his mouth with his palm, holding it in.

Which is when Finn shrieks like a girl. “Dude. _Dude_!” Finn’s voice drops off to practically nothing. “We-- _we_ got married last night?”

Puck can’t figure out what the hell Finn’s talking about, but when he manages to wince his eyes open, he sees Finn staring at Puck’s hand like its poisonous or something. Puck get’s a really bad feeling. He raises his hand a few inches above his face. The gold band is innocuously glinting at him. “Oh shit.” Puck’s stomach chooses this minute to revolt.

***

Puck makes it to the toilet, barely. After spending ten minutes becoming intimately acquainted with the porcelain gods, he manages to pull himself together enough to get mostly upright. He takes a second to brush his teeth, spending extra time on scrubbing the nasty taste of god-knows-what off his tongue. In the cheesy motel bathroom mirror he looks a little like a walking corpse, but otherwise mostly normal—nothing like a dude who just got married to another dude the night before.

It takes him an inordinately long time to make it back to the bed. The whole room seems to be spinning, leaving him completely off-balance.

When he collapses onto the mattress, he turns onto his side only to see Finn giving him a freaky serious look. “You know what this means, right?” Finn says, sounding totally terrified. “This means we have to have sex.”

Puck snorts. “There is no way I’m moving from this position. If you wanna have sex, that’s up to you, but don’t expect me to contribute very much.”

Finn bites his lip, gaze sweeping over Puck once, head to toe. It’s this mixture of nervous and intimate that somehow adds up to cause a hot feeling to unfurl in Puck’s belly. “Um…Okay,” Finn says, getting up and crossing to his suitcase. He digs around for a few minutes then makes a triumphant noise, throwing his hands into the air in some kiddy victory dance thing. “Score,” he says, crossing back to the bed, this time on Puck’s other side.

It’s sorta freaky not being able to see anything, but Puck’s not nervous or anything. He’s plenty used to weird sex. Between Santana and Brittany he figures he’s done more kinky stuff than any other male in their class. _Gay sex can’t be_ that _different from everything else, right?_

Puck feels the bed dip as Finn sits down behind him. “So, if you don’t want to move, you’re gonna have to be the girl. It’ll be just like when I did this with Santana.”

“You fucked Santana in the ass?” Puck says, eyebrow rising. “Good on you, Hudson.”

There’s a pause, then Finn says, “Uh—um actually no. No I—I just meant—I mean, she didn’t move, like, at all. That’s—that’s just what it’s like with Santana, right?”

“Right,” Puck says, smirking. If there’s one thing Santana isn’t, it’s still. Santana’s like a tiger in the sack, all sinuous curves but fast as hell. Finn must be one hell of a bad lay if he couldn’t even get Santana to respond. Which reminds him, he’s about to find out just how bad of a lay Finn is first-hand. “Just get on with it already,” he says to Finn.

“All right,” Finn says, agreeably. He runs a hand down Puck’s back, to the waist of his boxer-briefs—then goes tense. “Can I—I mean, I’m going to have to take your underwear off. Okay?”

“Fine,” Puck growls.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just—fine.” Finn’s fingers slip under the band of his boxer-briefs, sliding them down, down, and off. And then, just like that, Puck’s completely naked.

“Huh,” he says, suddenly feeling chilled.

“Wow,” Finn says, tracing a hand up his thigh. “You have a really hot ass.” Finn’s palm slides up, and then, suddenly, he’s gripping said ass.

Puck shivers, feeling goose bumps break out all over his body.

He hears a sound from behind him—a click. And then Finn’s other hand is joining the first one on his ass, this one slick. A wet finger slides up and down his crack, up and down, up and down. It starts to get almost hypnotic. Then, on the next pass, it presses more firmly against his hole. He feels it clench, then relax, letting just the tip in.

It’s weird—mostly for how it doesn’t feel bad at all. It almost feels good in a way.

“Have you—have you ever done this before?” Finn says.

“Nah,” Puck says, and although his voice sounds relaxed, for some reason he feels himself tensing up again.

“Me neither,” Finn says—whispers, like it’s a secret—and for some reason, against all common sense, that makes Puck relax.

Finn says, “Okay, I’m gonna—“ and then his finger slides in—like all the way in. And it’s—it’s a revelation. For the first time ever Puck gets it. He gets why chicks get all tense, and why they’re so picky about who they sleep with, and why they freak out so much about their first times. Because this, this is nothing like the kind of fucking he’s used to.

There’s somebody inside him—somebody’s a part of him, in a way he’s never felt before. And it’s good. He grunts, says, “More,” without intending to say anything.

And Finn gives him more. It takes Puck a second to realize what’s happening, and then he feels it. Two. Finn’s got _two_ fingers inside him now. It feels—perfect. And then Finn pushes in even further, and Puck’s vision whites out.

“Christ,” he says, and it doesn’t even sound like him. His voice breaks like it hasn’t since he was fourteen.

Finn pushes in once, twice more, and it’s good, it’s great, it’s too much/not enough, in totally different way from what he’s used to. He says, “Now,” then bites his tongue. He sounds needy. He sounds broken, in a way he’s never been.

“O-Okay,” Finn says. And Finn—he sounds just as broken as Puck.

Then Finn’s fingers are gone. Puck hears a tearing sound behind him, but can’t focus on that. Instead he feels the ache of want inside him. When he looks down his body, he’s shocked to find he’s hard—red and swollen with his balls already tight like he’s only seconds away from coming. He grabs his cock, twisting his fist and aching with a want that goes deeper than he’s used to.

And then Finn’s hand is on his thigh, pulling it up in a position his thigh was never meant to go, and there, at his hole, is something hard and huge feeling—is Finn. “Ready?” he asks. Puck licks his lips, tries to say, _I’ve changed my mind_ tries to say, _No, I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready for this_. But then he feels himself nodding. Because no matter how much part of him will _never_ find this okay, another part of him wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

There’s a push and then it’s too much, too much, _too much_. It hurts—it hurts way more than he ever thought possible. And almost worse, it burns. And overlying everything—overshadowing Finn’s awkward thrusts and the muscle strain in his thigh and the fact that his cock went from ready to go off to a massive attempt to crawl back into his body—over all of that is the fact that he’s letting someone in, something he’s never done, at least not since his dad took off.

Finn is inside him—completely a part of him.

And then he isn’t. “Dude, did you fall out?” Puck asks. And yeah, a second ago he was more than ready for it all to be over, but he’s never going to miss out on an opportunity to mock Finn mercilessly.

Finn’s panting like a steam-engine behind him. “This isn’t gonna work. I can’t fuck you and hold your leg up at the same time.”

“Yeah, you never could multi-task, could you Hudson?” Puck says with a chuckle.

“Turn over,” Finn says.

“What?” Puck says.

“Turn over. On your stomach,” Finn says, his voice coming out as a rasp.

And okay, yeah, Puck doesn’t like to be told what to do, but he figures if they do it where Finn can actually move, Finn’ll come in about thirty seconds. He rolls onto his belly, spreads his thighs a little.

After a second Finn’s back, kneeling between Puck’s thighs, stroking his ass. Suddenly he grabs Puck’s hips, and before he knows what’s happening Finn’s pushing in again. But this time, this time it’s a little smoother. The angle seems better. It seems like Finn goes deeper in this position.

Finn pulls part way out then he’s pushing back in. Out and in. Out and in. And after about half a dozen strokes Puck feels _it_ again. That zinging, tingling feeling of whiteness. The perfect surrender. His mouth opens and he moans, grunts out a, “Yeah.”

Finn stops for a second. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Puck says.

“Okay,” Finn says. “Let me know…” Then he’s pushing in with a long, slow drag.

Puck feels it again and he’s groaning, practically sobbing with it.

Finn starts making little perfect thrusts, fast and fixed, right at _that_ spot. And Puck loses it. He starts writhing in the sheets, crying and yelling obscenities, pushing himself into the thrusts senselessly.

Finn grabs him, one hand under each thigh, and starts fucking into him hard. Puck’s cock is stiff, leaking into the sheets. He bites his fist, needing the pain to balance out the pleasure.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, then Finn’s grabbing his neck, dragging him in for a kiss. Finn says, “N-Noah,” right into Puck’s mouth. And that’s what sends Puck over the edge, the whiteness taking over, stars exploding behind his eyes, as his cock shoots come all over the sheets.

He comes back to himself, Finn still fucking into him, as steady and regular as his own heartbeat.

Then, from the other side of the room he hears, at the same time, “Oh my God,” and, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Finn stills and both boys turn to look at the door.

Rachel and Santana stand there with equally shocked expressions on their faces.

“Ladies,” Puck says, giving a small wave. Puck’s been caught in compromising positions before, and it’s his opinion that the less you say the better off you are.

Sadly, Finn doesn’t seem to know that little bit of wisdom. “Santana, Rachel. This isn’t what it looks like.” At their incredulous expressions he hastens to correct himself. “Actually, you’re right. This is exactly what it looks like. But there’s a reason. A good reason. Puck and I got married last night. And everybody knows that you have to have sex after you get married. It’s like against the law to—not. Um…”

Santana starts laughing uncontrollably, while Rachel looks like she’s about to commit double homicide.

“Actually,” Rachel says, “you two didn’t get married last night.” Holding up a hand bearing a wedding ring, she adds, “ _We_ did.”

“You and Santana got married?” Finn says.

Puck smacks him on the thigh—it’s the only thing he can really reach.

“No, Finn,” Rachel says, fuming. “You and I were married last night. Santana married Puck, because she is clearly brain-dead.”

Puck looks over at Santana, and sure enough, she’s got a wedding ring on her finger too.

“What I want to know is how you could hurt me like this. We haven’t even been married twenty-four hours and already you’re cheating on me. You—you—you’re a man-slut, Finn Hudson.” Rachel looks like she’s only a couple seconds away from bursting into tears.

“Wait a second, Berry,” Santana says. She moves Rachel in front of her, front to back, puts her hands on her shoulders. “Now look at them. Have you ever, in your whole life, seen anything as _hot_ as that?”

“I-I,” Rachel stutters, “well, no.” She seems to regain her resolve. “But that still doesn’t excuse them from cheating on us.”

“You’re right,” Santana says. “I guess that means we have to punish them. Can you think of any good revenge?” Santana’s rubbing Rachel’s shoulders, blows on her collar-bone.

“Well. Well, there is payback,” Rachel says—her voice going breathy. “We could—we could do to them what they did to us. And make them watch.”

Behind him, Puck can feel Finn stutter-thrust into him one, two, three times. And that right there, was all she wrote.


End file.
